


流れ星キラリ (shining, shooting star)

by nyxique



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Reunions, Self-Worth Issues, Songfic, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, killua cries and so did i
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxique/pseuds/nyxique
Summary: It’s like a supernova, this thing between them, when they finally crash back together after nearly three years apart. Intense, luminous, overwhelming; their never-quite-dormant emotions shimmer like stardust in the wake of their collision.





	流れ星キラリ (shining, shooting star)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoveStrawberries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoveStrawberries/gifts).



> this is a secret satan (yes, satan) gift for my victim, [eevee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoveStrawberries)! i'm not very good at writing outright angst but i hope you enjoy this anyway ヾ(＾▽＾)ノ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
> 
> the title and lyrics throughout the fic are from [流れ星キラリ](https://youtu.be/2jEtkkHVwz0) (the 4th hxh ed)

_Entrusting wishes to the sky, unanswered thoughts_  
_People have overcome many nights by doing that_  
_while searching for a new tomorrow, haven’t they?_

_I think of you, even when we’re far apart_  
_Alone, looking up to the sky beyond like this_  
_believing that we can one day connect our hearts_

—

Lightning flows through Killua’s veins, sending sparks dancing across pale fingertips. White fluffy hair stands on end, poofing out even more with the static. He concentrates; recalls the shock of putting a taser to his arm, all those years of torture training, left with nothing to do but wait out the pain–

Killua closes his eyes. He envisions his aura as an impending stormcloud, feels the tingling in his nerves.

He only opens his eyes when he hears two telltale gasps, and sees blue—electric blue everywhere, so bright it’s almost white.

He’s standing in the middle of his own lightning storm.

Gon and Bisky are in awe of his electricity transmutation, of course. He knew they would be. No one else could pull off an ability like this, not unless they’d had constant exposure to electricity for years upon years.

(Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bisky’s sympathetic expression and he knows she’s likely figured him out.)

(He decides to ignore it.)

But as proud as he is of his own ability, he’s also curious about Gon’s—the _nen_ technique that impressed Tsezguerra enough to allow a rookie hunter to enter Greed Island.

He should’ve known, really—of course Gon’s ability would be _rock paper scissors_ , simple but at the same time infuriatingly complex, a reflection of the ability’s user. With some work, the raw power focused in Gon’s fist could do serious damage.

This is one of the reasons Killua is so drawn to Gon—he’s the only one who’s ever been able to keep up with Killua, who sees him as a friend his age rather than the child prodigy he’d been molded to be.

Bisky gestures for them to sit, a strange excitement in her usually stern expression. Settling on a large boulder, she draws her legs under the folds of her skirt.

“Have either of you heard of soulmarks?”

Gon gives a blank stare while Killua quirks an eyebrow. Bisky sighs. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Without explaining further, she simply holds up a finger, smirking when Gon and Killua shout “Seven!” simultaneously.

“It’s a draw. Excellent, you two. Now,” she puts her finger down, instead gesturing between them, “keep using _gyo_ and look at each other.”

Killua blinks, caught off-guard, and Gon’s confusion is palpable—but they both nod anyway, doing as they’re told and turning toward each other. Killua almost falls off the rock he’s been sitting on.

“Gon,” Killua ignores the way his voice cracks, “Gon, you have—there’s–”

“Soulmarks,” Gon breathes, golden brown eyes honing in on a spot on Killua’s shoulder. He distantly figures Gon’s seeing Killua’s own soulmark but he doesn’t care—he’s too captivated by what appears to be blue arcs of electricity winding over Gon’s shoulders from his back.

Bisky claps her hands, startling them both out of their staring session. “Yes, soulmarks! These marks are based in _nen_ , which is why they can only be seen using _gyo_.”

“What—um,” Killua clears his throat, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow, “what do they mean, exactly?”

Killua’s not stupid—far from it, in fact. He can guess the implications of these marks, of Gon’s mark representing Killua, and Killua’s own mark likely representing Gon, from his reaction. He’s heard stories about soulmates, but had merely brushed them off as a naïve fairytale.

After all, what use did he have for soulmates as a child prodigy in a family of assassins? How could someone like him—someone as engulfed in darkness as him, someone with rivers of blood on their hands by age eleven—possibly have a soulmate?

But now—but now. Now he sees the proof of just how much his life has intertwined itself with Gon’s, feels it deeply in his soul even before Bisky turns her attention to him with a giddy yet uncharacteristically gentle smile.

“It means your souls—yours and Gon’s—are connected.”

—

_Shining, shooting star, you are in my dreams_  
_Its guidance of today will lead us to a different tomorrow_  
_One instant of light, please convey these feelings,_  
_I’ll find things I can do for your sake_  
_Carry them far into the distance_

_Our meeting, crossing time, is like a dream_  
_Feelings, so many that I can’t hide them, dance in the wind_  
_If only I had a little bit more courage_

—

It’s Alluka that says it first.

Two months, ten days and three hours after he and Gon had parted ways at the World Tree, Killua stands in the little kitchen of his and Alluka’s hotel room, boiling water for tea. Alluka sits at the table behind him, working through a coloring book he’d bought her yesterday.

“You love him.”

He freezes. The words sit heavy in the air, thick like high humidity on a hot summer day, and Killua feels like he’s drowning with every breath he takes. Looking over his shoulder, he meets his sister’s knowing gaze, bright with wisdom despite her young age.

“I–” he takes in a shaky breath and gives, shoulders slumping. He never could bring himself to lie to Alluka. “I do. I love him.”

Alluka smiles gently and continues filling in a butterfly’s wing with pink crayon. “You should tell him.”

The water begins to boil, so he turns back to the pot and pours the water into two mugs—green tea with honey for Alluka, and black tea with sugar (a lot of sugar) for himself.

(Gon would scold him for having too much sugar.)

He gives Alluka her mug and sits across from her, lifting his own to his lips. The overly sugary concoction burns his tongue. He doesn’t feel it.

Killua doesn’t reply for a while; Alluka blows on her tea, alternating between filling in the spaces between the pink with blue and green.

(Blue and green. Green and blue. Colors that should be soft, comforting.)

(They make his chest ache instead.)

Minutes later, Killua sets his half-empty mug on the table. Alluka only hums, finishing off the wing’s detail with splashes of violet. “I don’t… I can’t do that to him, Alluka.”

“You’re thinking that he deserves better.” It’s not a question so much as an assertion, and Killua can’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“He does,” Killua murmurs, fingers curling tightly around his still-warm mug, almost painful. “Even after all this time, I don’t know how to-” he sighs in frustration, cutting himself off by shoving his face into his hands.

Gon has always been so honest, so open about how he feels, whereas Killua wears a carefully constructed mask that he’s forgotten how to take off. At the very least, Gon deserves a soulmate that doesn’t have the emotional capacity of a brick.

There’s a scoff from across the table. “Gon doesn’t care about that, you know. He cares about _you_ ,” Alluka stresses the last word. His heart squeezes. “He wants brother to be happy, like I do. Even if it takes a little time.”

Alluka is there to hug him when the first tear falls.

—

_The miracle of our meeting, shining like that one first star_  
_I found it amongst the myriad of stars_  
_Time will always overtake me again_  
_I start running towards you, will I still make it?_  
_Let’s go on a journey_

_On my cheeks I can feel the warmth_  
_of these tears I shed in sorrow_  
_From this place, where I'm looking up at the sky_  
_I'll be calling out your name forever_

—

It’s like a supernova, this thing between them, when they finally crash back together after nearly three years apart. Intense, luminous, overwhelming; their never-quite-dormant emotions shimmer like stardust in the wake of their collision.

Killua doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s seventeen now and seeing his best friend (and soulmate, his mind helpfully supplies) in person for the first time in what feels like eons, and he’s frozen in place with a stupid heart-shaped lollipop in his mouth.

Gon stares back at him, all wide round eyes and gold-dipped irises. The festival continues on around them but neither of them pay it any mind, deaf to everything outside their little pocket of spacetime.

“Killua?”

He doesn’t even realize he’s using _gyo_ until he sees the brilliant blue arcs of electricity peeking out from the collar of Gon’s shirt, wrapping around his neck and up onto his jaw. He doesn’t need to look at himself to know that his own soulmark is likely doing the same.

His breath stutters in his chest. “Gon?”

Their little bubble is popped as a family decked out in cheesy heart merchandise passes between them. Then Gon is running toward him, smile brighter than the sun, and Killua is once again caught in his gravity.

 _You are light_ , he remembers thinking, a long time ago. _Sometimes, you shine so brightly I must look away_.

Oh, how right he was.

He doesn’t look away this time, though; he can’t, not when Gon is throwing his arms around him, squeezing him tightly like he’s afraid Killua will vanish if he lets go. Killua buries his face in Gon’s neck, fighting the stinging in his eyes.

“Idiot,” he chokes out, throat tight with the effort of holding in tears.

Gon laughs wetly in his ear and Killua can’t help but smile, even as Alluka tugs on his sleeve, causing them to pull away. He watches fondly as Gon hugs his sister, babbling about how much she’s grown.

It’s been years and both of them have changed; they’re both taller, though Killua still has Gon beat in height (just barely), and they’ve both learnt what it means to exist as their own entities—as Killua and Gon rather than _Killua and Gon_.

And yet—and yet, Killua is still inexplicably drawn to his warmth, the boy with stars in his eyes and adventure on his tongue.

He startles when Gon grabs his hand, tugging him and Alluka in the direction of a nearby restaurant.

At his questioning look, Gon simply smiles. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t you think?”

_But even so, is it still okay if I stay by your side?_

—

_Shining, shooting star, you are in my dreams_  
_Its guidance of today will lead us to a different tomorrow_  
_One instant of light, please convey these feelings,_  
_I’ll find things I can do for your sake_  
_Far into the distance_  
_Let’s go on a journey_

—

Two weeks later, the supernova has settled into the warmth of a white dwarf star, occasionally flaring with affection but burning steadily.

Alluka had practically forced him to let her go travel with Bisky for a few months, claiming that “ _You and Gon need quality alone time, brother, I’ll be fine!_ ”

It had been difficult to let her go—he’d needed half a day of convincing that he wouldn’t be “leaving” her, that needing time to himself doesn’t make him a bad brother. He’d given in eventually, of course; he’s never been able to say no to Alluka or Nanika.

There’s not too much left to talk about, not really. They’d spent the entire first night talking, arguing, opening old wounds and spilling long-forgotten insecurities. Neither of them had bothered to hide their soulmarks with _zetsu_ , instead letting them glow with the intensity of their emotions.

It had been therapeutic, like setting a dislocated joint back in place; the process hurt terribly, but the aftermath left a pleasantly fading ache.

(Gon takes both of Killua’s hands in his, after the yelling and the apologies, running the pads of his thumbs over Killua’s knuckles– “I’m going to do things differently this time. I promise.”

Killua’s breath hitches, chest becoming lighter than air. Unable to form words, he only nods in response, squeezing Gon’s hands; they’re going to do it right this time.)

Now, Killua traces the marks that wind around Gon’s arms, watching the cerulean bolts shift and pulse under his touch. Warm fingers press into the marks on his back in response, and he hums contentedly into Gon’s shoulder.

He drowsily remembers what Bisky had said all those years ago, marvels at the proof decorating their skin, the now familiar softness of Gon’s touch. It might take time and effort, and he might still slip into his habitual self doubt at times, but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! ♡


End file.
